You Jackass
‘You jackass!’ She yelled from the back porch as I backed out of the garage headed for work. I waved as if I hadn’t heard her words and kept going. Donna was my wife of twenty years, standing on the back porch of our modest home at the edge of town. She was wearing a pair of ‘big girl’ panties and nothing else. Her double D or bigger breasts were exposed and looking great. I didn’t have to ask why she called me a jackass. I knew. I had given her a hickey. We had had sex the night before. She...